I apologize for not being able to update for awhile! I wasn't really having any inspiration come to me for awhile and I've been bombarded with schoolwork and exhaustion. I'll try to update more often, I promise! Don't forget to read and review!
Oh and in this chapter, Eponine has been asleep for around a week. I didn't really think the length of it through, but it'll be around there.
Chapter 8
The conversation proved to be extremely extraneous to Eponine in her condition, for as Enjolras shut the door, a bit too hard for her liking; she let her frantic thoughts wash away from her mind as her eyes fluttered as she begrudgingly fell into a deep sleep. The mattress, sheets, and pillows coaxed her into a sleep she had never known before. At the inn, she could never seem to be able to allow herself to be enticed by the luxury of a heavy, dreamless sleep. She always had to be aware of her surroundings, quick and agile, so she could react quickly if a man, drunken or not(she had experienced both), were to find his way to her room and her bed with sickening intentions. In the presence of the men, and feeling the safest she had in most of her pitiful excuse for an existence, her well worn body seemed to succumb to the temptation of safety and comfort. It shut down, finally allowing her a dreamless and peaceful sleep.
"I must be off to class, Joly has checked over her vitals and she seems to be doing well, just exhausted. Please check on her every half hour."
"I know, 'Jolras! Lord knows I have been doing this everyday! It would do you well to trust me a bit."
The voices seemed to echo in the back of Eponine's mind, like a distant memory trying to break through her body's shut down.
"It will do me nothing but harm, I know from experience. I am placing my trust with you for this job, am I not?" Even in her slumber, the irritation in the voice was coming through.
"This is hardly trust, she does nothing that would cause alarm or require my services, and therefore trust is not a large requirement. One would think she be dead if it were not for the slight rise and fall of her chest," Grantaire stated.
Enjolras stiffened, "I will be back in exactly three hours. I expect you to be here and Eponine be seen to."
With that Enjolras turned and went out the door. "The bloody pride of that man," Grantaire mumbled in a melancholy sort of way.
Eponine groaned, for the men's strong and somewhat obnoxious voices seemed to shake her out of her blissful trance.
"Well, I'll be damned," Grantaire said turning to Eponine, "Seems our slum princess has finally decided to grace her servants with her charming and obviously cheery presence."
Eponine's reluctant scowl that was still on her face from waking up deepened as she looked at the man talk, swinging his bottle of wine around with large hand motions he used to portray what he was saying. "It's not as if I got up and left. I have been here the whole time, gracing you with my presence," she retorted.
"You were unconscious, there has hardly been a presence here," he stated, "You have been asleep for days; your body seems to have shut down in order to heal itself from the damage it has taken over the course of your life."
She nodded, scanning the room for others, listening for young voices in the other rooms. There was none. "Where are Azelma and Gavroche?" she asked nervously, hoping that the drunk would give some indication on how her father took her absence.
Grantaire smiled, "Don't you worry, your father accepted the story, as well as the money. Both Azelma and Gavroche are safe, all of the men have been doing their part to help the children," Eponine noticed that Grantaire did not reveal many details on how the men were helping and she couldn't help but grow suspicious, "The men have seemed to take a liking to Azelma. They protect her as best they can. The way you lot make these revolutionaries' fragile hearts melt seems to run in your family. I must admit that even my cold heart softens for Gavroche and yourself, and apparently now, Azelma. She is an exquisite little lady. I'm offended you did not bring her to the meetings before she came running to us to save your life."
Eponine flinched slightly at the memory. Grantaire's blunt manner had always been a trait of his. He seemed to be hardened to many gruesome circumstances, though she did not know why. "Azelma has always been somewhat intimidated by the Les Amis. I would not want to put her in yet another situation she was uncomfortable with," Eponine said plainly, shrugging as if it was a mystery to her how her innocent yet strong sister could be intimidated by the students.
Grantaire's mouth gaped with shock, "Of me?" he said throwing his hands up in mock offense, "Well with my stunning good looks and devilish charm I can see why," he mumbled joking to himself.
Eponine rolled her eyes, "I'm going to ignore that comment," she said than sighed, "No, and honestly I think she was mostly intimidated by Enjolras."
"Well that is reasonable," Grantaire said scratching his head and sitting at the edge of her bed, "Everyone is, he is quite terrifying. Captivating, but terrifying nonetheless."
"Yes, mostly everyone is," Eponine said, trying to point out that she was not, and would not be intimidated by the student, "He would do well if he used that to his advantage in this revolution of his."
Grantaire wore a questioning look on his face, but decide to ask Eponine to further explain her point, "Ah yes, how could I forget?" He said staring into her dark orbs, "Eponine, Princess of the Slums, who fears nothing and no one."
Eponine scoffed, "I did not say that, I fear many things. But, those things are far worse than Enjolras. I have be in the presence of much worse than the idealist," she said staring at the wall. The images haunted her mind, she shook them away and looked at Grantaire with a smile on her face and she scrunched her nose at him, "I know he is just as fluffy as his hair on the inside."
Grantaire let out a bellowing laugh, "It is quite fluffy, is it not?"
"More than a maiden's!" she exclaimed, "I could only wish my hair would be that soft and voluptuous one day," she said with a fake pout on her face.
Both of them burst out into a fit of laughter at the outlandish comparison. Grantaire looked at Eponine admiringly, "I am glad you have made it out of that atrocity alive."
Eponine rolled her eyes and let out a small laugh, "Oh how kind of you," she said in a mock bashful tone.
"You watch it there, Miss!" Grantaire jested, "That means a great deal coming from me. I have seemed to become immune to feelings or concerns over the years, be it from the alcohol or my bastard of a father, I genuinely attempted to stop caring, and succeeded a great deal. But, when I saw you half dead on the floor, something changed. I cared and worried about you. You are one of the only people who can see the world for what it really is, just as I can. I would greatly miss having someone see from my perspective," he said looking at her, completely losing his smug grin.
Eponine offered a small smile, "Yes well, Enjolras seems to have made it his duty to change my view. Apparently I have to believe in something that is not a doe-eyed man obsessed with a rich blonde." Eponine frowned remembering Marius, and his lack of love for her. "I wonder if he visited me," she thought.
Grantaire looked at her, but he wasn't looking at her. She felt that he was looking through her, the drunk seemed to see all of her flaws, insecurities, hopes, and dreams. She shifted slightly, ignoring the pain that shot throughout her body.
"You be careful of that. He will succeed," he said.
She looked at him confused, "Did he succeed with you? Are you telling me Grantaire, the cynical drunken skeptic, believes in the cause?"
He smirked sadly, "Not the cause, exactly."
She looked at him, searching his face, trying to grasp what he meant, "Enjolras," she said, it was not a question.
He looked at her, "Everyone who has heard Enjolras speak believes in him, deny it all you'd like but you will have to face the truth eventually. The longer you deny it, the stronger it will get."
She looked at him with pity but defiantly said, "I believe in Marius. I am in love with Marius."
He scoffed loudly, breaking his serious demeanor, "Well, no bloody shit!" he laughed, "Everyone with a pulse can see that. You follow him around all day, having vivid sexual fantasies about him. It's disgusting!"
She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, "And here I thought you could abstain from making any lewd comment for one conversation."
"Your mind's the one with the fantasies," he defended, "Not my own."
"You're despicable," she said.
"No," he said, "I'm very realistic about the world and everything it contains, making your desires easy for me to pick up, which leads me to want to drink them, along with many other things, away." He stood up frowning at his now empty wine bottle, "Speaking of which, I must go fetch another drink."
"You're not as heartless as you think you are," she said bravely.
He turned to her surprised, "Oh? Am I not? Than pray tell what my weak heart breaks for?" He inquired.
"Enjolras," she said, "It would break if he were to fall during battle. You would cry."
He sighed and turned to her, "The world would cry if Enjolras died, for its protector would have abandoned it."
"Would it not be the world that slays its protector?" She asked.
He shook his head, "One can act then regret it, and even weep about it. It will happen to the Les Amis when the barricade finally rises. You know these men, do you truly believe they relish in the fact that they will have to take away another human being's life? They are going to be taking the lives of fathers, brothers, and sons. No," he said running his fingers along the bottle, "Those that survive will not only weep for their fallen brothers, but also the men that have fallen at their hand," he looked at Eponine's shocked face, "I'll get you bread." With that he turned and left the room.
Eponine was left staring at the door. She covered her face that was littered with healing bruises and now thinning cuts with her thin and shaking hands. Her mind was plagued with images of the possible deaths that will come from the revolution.
Marius.
Grantaire.
Courfeyrac.
Joly.
Combeferre.
Bahorel.
Feuilly.
Jehan Prouvaire.
Legles.
Gavroche.
Enjolras.
She even shook for those on the opposing side. The selfish and scared people of France must rise, and Eponine had some tactics that could force the people to do just that.
"I have to talk to Enjolras," She had that thought cross her mind often now, but no other time called for this much urgency.